"The cloth will get wetter, but I will get no drier," the Tailor muttered, their expression deadpan and their tone flat in the face of the wicked grin, but they plucked the cloth free anyway to chase the stray water drops that were making their way down the fellow's collar. With regret, they loosened their tie a touch and unbuttoned the first button (scandal!) to quickly dab at their throat before refastening the button, without correcting the tie. It mattered very little. They were already coming quite apart.

They returned to their own papers with begrudging awareness their classmate was correct, and wrote, with swift finality, "I have many regrets."

"Take care who you direct your amusement at," they said, distracted as they straightened their stack and tried, with little success, to push their hair back from their face. "Not all are as easily swayed as myself. Though I suppose having a powerful friend helps there."